Marines to Spartans: Recruitment Files
by Windspeech
Summary: Marine forces fight for their lives as a Spartan looks for subjects for a new expiremental Spartan project.  Each chapter will be in a different point of view. Rated 'M' for violence and stuff.
1. Chapter 1: Medic

Author's note/ disclaimer: I do not own pelicans, warthogs, Spartans, or anything else to do with halo. This story is based after the covenant attack on harvest, before news of it reaches the entire UNSC.

P.S. every chapter will be from a different viewpoint, some repeating over time.

1: Medic

I ran across the battle field to the cries, carrying my field medical supplies. Bullets flew through as I ran; I was almost shot by both sides. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder as I ran; I winced and proceeded to the screams of the wounded; it was only a graze. When I reached the crater that the bomb left, there were five bodies, three being our own men, the rest had been vaporized. There were two wounded, shrapnel had fortunately only caught in their arms and legs, a simple medical procedure. I ran to the first, who seemed to be the most endangered, because he had pulled some of the shrapnel out, he screamed as he lay bleeding to death. I rushed over and began to stop the bleeding; the man looked up at me, his jaw was clenched from the pain.

"Don't – don't bother with me." He forced out the words. "There are others that have more of a chance to survive." I was surprised that he could speak though the agony, and that he was not unconscious from the blood loss.

"Don't die now, Sarge," I replied, seeing his rank. "I will save as many people as I can, so long as they have the will to fight even death." He smiled at my determination. He pulled out a handgun and offered it to me.

"You're going to need this, son," He said, "If you want to survive out here." I smiled down to him as I tightened the final bandages.

"I can't shoot while I work," I said, declining the weapon. "But I guess I have you to watch my back." He nodded and sat up slightly, using his good arm to hold the gun. I knew that he could have a concussion and that he could slip into a coma if I let him pass out. So I gave him a purpose, something to feel responsible for. I ran to the other man and felt his pulse; he was in better condition than the sargent, I quickly pulled out the shrapnel and bandaged the open wounds, this one had not lost too much blood. There was a groan of pain from the other side of the crater, I looked and saw a man panicking over his wounded friend. I dragged the bandaged man I was helping over to where the other man was.

"I am going to scout ahead and see what is happening." I told him as I started to run across the crater to the broken building where the two men were.

"Don't shoot, I'm a medic," I announced as I came behind the man. He turned quickly with his gun, seeing an enemy soldier. "I can help him." He lowered his gun and I ran to the wounded man; he was biting down on the hilt of a knife, trying not to give away their position by crying out in pain. I saw two gunshot wounds; one was in the shoulder, and one in the stomach.

"Are these the only wounds you have?" I asked the man; he nodded, not bothering to attempt to speak. I opened my bag and filled a needle with morphine. This should help with the pain." I said, administering the drug. I started with the shoulder, knowing that the morphine needed to take effect before I tried to dig out the stomach bullet wound. The shoulder was a clean shot, the bullet went completely through. The same could not be said about the other bullet. I tightened the bandage around the shoulder, speaking to his friend.

"I need you to talk to him, distract him from the pain, I need to remove the bullet." The man kneeled next to the man and started talking. The ground shuddered as a bomb landed near us. I heard the man I was working on try to let out a chuckle, wincing at the pain. When I finally pulled the bullet out, the man groaned, the morphine only helping a bit. I quickly opened my bag and took out my canister of biofoam, sealing the wound. I bandaged the bullet hole and packed up my supplies.

"He should make it," I told the other man. "But you should take him to another medic and get him completely patched up."

"I don't understand," the man said. "Why do you help us? We are your enemies." I stopped walking and turned my head.

"I don't see any other living being as an enemy." The man had a look of regret. "I joined this war to help people." I slung my pack over my shoulder and walked back across the crater. I saw the wounded man with a beacon, he was sending a Morse code out. I listened and realized it was coordinates to our location, requesting a bomb strike.

"What are you doing?" I yelled at the man.

"I'm sending these rebels back into the cold void of outer space." He said grinning; we were behind the enemy lines, in an occupied air base. The man's eyes were tearing; I saw that the last man in his squad was dead, despite my analysis that he would survive longer. "You have a minute to get out if you can, I am sincerely sorry to have brought this upon you." I wanted to curse at him, but I just turned and ran back, needing to warn the other people. I was half way across the crater when the ground began to break apart. The bombs came from orbit. I reached the doorway to the building when it was hit with a bomb.

I groaned as I came back to consciousness, looking around at the mass that was left of the battle field from where I lay. I saw a body moving slightly a small distance from where I was; to my right was my bag. It was severely undamaged from the explosion. I tried to reach for it in vain as I discovered that my arm was missing. I focused on staying alive in order to save the wounded man, if nothing else. I reached for the bag with my left arm, pulling it in front of me as I tried to stand. The ground reached up to meet me as I fell back down. I looked to my right leg and saw that it would need to be amputated; that is if I were to survive. I turned back and began to pull myself to the other survivor, dragging both myself and the bag to the location. The man suffered from mostly burns; however, there was a large piece of the bomb lodged within his stomach and his legs were blown off, the wounds sealed from the heat of the explosion. I could barely see it, but it was the man whose friend I had helped. I grabbed the metal, holding the canister of biofoam in my mouth. I pulled and he cried out; I groaned as I felt my own wounds bleed. I filled the man's wound and saw him open his eyes to my efforts. I wore my false-hope medic grin as I fell to my side, holding my own beacon. A pelican soon came down in a search-and-rescue mission. The men spoke as they came out of the vehicle.

"Take that one for immediate medical attention!" They pulled me onto a stretcher and began to run me to the aircraft. I looked to the other man and saw he was lying dead, or so it would seem; I saw him slip a breath before the pelican doors closed.

"Keep him awake!" I felt the medic in the ship sealing my wounds when I began drifting off. "Stay awake, dammit!" I felt a large hand on my shoulder and I opened my eyes to a sight that was rare to witness, a Spartan. It wore the Spartan Recon helmet that gleamed in the room's light.

"Stay with us, soldier." Its voice was surprisingly human, surprisingly female. Despite the words, I felt myself slip into what I knew would be a coma.


	2. Chapter 2: Driver

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that may be copy written, so I would appreciate to not be sued for infringement.

2: Driver

The wheels of the 'warthog' whirred as I flew over the hill. The wind in my hair made me loose myself a little.

"What are we doing, Lieutenant," my passenger, Chuck, asked. "We were instructed to help defend the base." I turned to him with an annoyed look.

"The General has that place locked down, ain't nothing getting in there." I could tell he was not reassured. "Besides," I continued. "The best defense is a good offense, right?"

"Hell, yeah!" Cal, my die-hard gunner yelled from the back.

"Live a little, man." I said. "You've got to enjoy what you do."

"Yeah, we're Marines." Cal agreed. "Born to kick ass!" I smiled to myself for having a team of opposites, but they were damn effective in battle. I constructed the team with the need for specialists that could be effective in my 'modified' warthog, it was one of the fastest ground vehicles in the world; I like to call it the 'Puma.' It took a higher level of skill to handle it perfectly. I chose Caliber for her skill at the big gun and her live-hard -die-young attitude. Her muscular frame made her a bit thicker than many of the guys at base would like, although nobody would dare say it to her face. Chuck was a different story, he was far too passive to be a leader, but I chose him because even in the stress of battle; while he may lose his lunch, he would never lose his focus. He was one of the only people that could hit a mark with a sniper rifle in a moving vehicle. He was thin and sickly looking, worry was always visible on his face. He sat quietly next to me now with a battle rifle and an uneasy look.

"You okay, Larry?" I asked, using his real name. 'Chuck' was a call name; we called him that for his weak stomach. 'Cal' or 'Caliber' was a call name as well; Rebecca was her birth name. I had to admit that I felt a bit of envy for them; I was only addressed as 'Lieutenant,' due to my rank.

"I'm fine," he assured me, "It's just that we have passed enemy lines." Shit, he was right.

"Look alive, Cal!" I called up. "Be ready, Chuck." He nodded.

"Yeah!" Cal yelled out, "Let's teach these motherfucking rebels what happens when you mess with the UNSC!" I responded by shifting gears.

The forces were surprised to see us, I had moved around their lines without them realizing. Between the roar of the engines, the blasting of the turret, and the screams of the dying; I could barely hear Chuck praying as he killed. I focused on the prayer as the car jolted from the bodies it hit. I slammed on the top left pedal of the Puma and slid the tail into a group of men. I unlatched my assault rifle and began shooting into the crowds as I drove, straining to control the wheel with one arm. I soon lost myself in the killing instinct; the blood stained the air as Chuck finished his prayer.

Within a few hours, we had crushed the entire left forces. I walked around the Puma, checking if it would be fine with running again. Chuck sat staring at his sniper, praying again. Cal was polishing her mounted gun.

"What's your count, Cal?" I asked; tradition of the squad; counting our kills.

"Sixty-three." She answered. We looked over to Chuck.

"Seventy-nine." He mumbled. It was not unusual, even as the passive one, he can take names like no other, and it scares him.

"Fifty." I said, wiping the blood from only one spot on the vehicle; the label: 'Lt. Sparks.'

"Never going over, huh?" Cal said; I never killed more than fifty men in one battle. We were a bloody squad; most marines never see as much action in their lives as we have seen tenfold.

"The day is not over yet," I said. "Mount up, we're moving back to base." I started the engine of the Puma. Chuck was staring into the sky.

"Something wrong, Private?" I asked, trying to follow his gaze. He tried to answer, but could not form words, his hand shook as he pointed into the sky. Both my gaze and Cal's followed his; I squinted to see masses moving from the distance, it was a line of over two dozen pelican bombers. I stood shocked as the aircraft released their bombs onto our main infantry line. Chuck threw up as he saw the death far better than I could if I were standing under the bombs. I heard the dying screams of fellow soldiers and felt my stomach turn as well, but I knew that Chuck would not be able to handle seeing me lose my nerve.

"Rebecca," I said, snapping her out of the trance. "Convert the back; we're going to look for survivors." She nodded and folded the gun over the seats and unfolded a thin, but sturdy platform, it was like the bed of a truck with a bit of cover in a firefight. I sighed in grief as dozens of beacons came up on the Puma's nav-computer.

"Get in, we've got a fight on our hands, but the UNSC will not lose today." I waited for Chuck to get strapped in before driving toward the smoke. I tried to ignore the lifeless bodies as I drove, knowing that I had done this to many enemy soldiers in the past, brutally killing them with their friends, but I felt that I gave them a fighting chance by going into battle. I could never kill with an air strike; I have to look the man in the eye when he died, to honour him in death, to know who I killed. I remembered the faces of every life I took as I looked now at the faces of the soldiers fallen here. Just before the frontlines were the least affected areas; I came upon a small group of men hiding behind a burning warthog, they were all injured, but one had his legs blown off, they were trying to stop the bleeding.

"You taking survivors?" One ran over. I nodded and motioned to the back. He was about to turn, but caught a glance of the name: 'Lt. Sparks' and went into a salute. "Sir, we could not burden you with dead weight. Leave us and go out to the battle." I sighed at my squad reputation.

"This is a delivery run, soldier." I said to him, anger in my voice. "You're dead weight is my cargo." The man hid a smile of relief and went to gather his men. I noticed that Chuck was looking through his sniper rifle, aiming at something. "What is it, Chuck?" I asked, turning to look into the sky. There was another bomber flying over the frontlines. The gunshot was piercing as I watched in awe as the bullet detonated one of the bombs within the pelican, causing it to crash down into the rebel forces.

"Damn good sniper you got there, sir." One of the soldiers said as he was getting into the back. "You hear about that Spartan program?" I ignored the question; it was a rumour that our base hid a secret laboratory to create Spartan-III's. "Word is that the Spartan stationed here is selecting soldiers for it, I hear your squad is already being considered." I sighed again, 'I hear...' Who has he been talking to?

"Where do you hear that, soldier?" Cal asked before I could.

"From the Spartan herself, she was calling her superiors about it." He said almost fearing punishment for eavesdropping on a superior officer.

"Spartans, huh?" I said after a while. "Interesting." I drove to the next beacon. And within twenty minutes, the beacons were gone, I either picked them up, or they died out. There was one beacon left near the frontlines, where the airstrip was; it turned on and off. Chuck had his eyes closed for a while; I was driving to the signal. Chuck's eyes flew open.

"Shit!" He cried out. "Stop the car!" I hit the top right, top and bottom left peddles and screeched the Puma to a stop. I turned to Chuck to see why he was yelling out, but I looked up at the sound of rockets and watched in horror as land missiles rained down onto the airfield. The world seemed to split apart. The missiles emitted a strong EMP that destroyed the Puma's electronic systems. Fortunately the beacons we carried were shielded from disruption.

"Everyone activate your beacons!" I shouted I turned on my evac beacon as others called for a medical pelican. Chuck scanned the area visually to see if there were any enemies, but with this much death and chaos, it was hard to see any survivors as enemies. Rebecca made sure that the passengers were all still alive. I looked to the sky as I heard pelicans coming down; the medical pelican flew a small ways away and picked up a man with one arm blown off. The medical officers hurried him into the ship. After a few minutes I saw something unexpected; the Spartan. Walking at about seven feet tall, she looked into the back of the Puma and motioned for the pelican to move closer. I stood in salute as the Spartan was present; Chuck and Cal did so as well. The Spartan stopped in front of me and looked closely, I did not even blink.

"Lieutenant Sparks, is it?" She queried.

"Yes, Major." I replied, "2nd Lieutenant Henry Sparks of the 16th division."

"Are these your men?" She asked, motioning towards the injured.

"No, Major," I said. "I have two soldiers under my command; Private Larry Carter and Private Rebecca Quill."

"Then why do you have these men with you?" She demanded, as if I had done something wrong.

"I followed their beacons, ma'am." I replied without wavering my voice. "I was trained to never leave a man behind if there was still any breath in his body, even his last."

"I see…" the Spartan said. "Now help these men aboard, they are in need of medical treatment." I nodded and helped carry the wounded men into the larger pelican. I saw the Spartan talking to Chuck his face twisted as she talked; I could not hear words, but whatever she said was getting to him. He then did something I would not have expected in a hundred lifetimes; he struck her, although he could do no damage through her helmet, she was moved slightly by the force of it. He shouted something at her and went back into a salute; no doubt apologizing for his lack of control.

"Did you just see what I did?" Cal asked from behind me, we were both too far away to have heard what was said, but the sight was enough to know that the Spartan knew how to push people's buttons. The Spartan walked away from Chuck and entered the evac pelican. I ran over to Chuck; there was fear in his eyes.

"You okay, soldier?" I asked, he winced as he lifted his hand, it was bruised and bleeding. I smiled, "A damn brave thing to do, Private. I couldn't even see Cal doing something like that." He smiled at my reassurance. "Get it patched up quickly and return to the Puma, we're leaving." He nodded and went to the nearest medic.

I pushed the Puma to the back of the pelican and locked it in as the tow came down. It fit on the bar of the windshield, and another on the rear bumper. I sat in the driver side of the Puma as it lifted. I tried to start it again but it failed to work. I sighed and lay my head on the steering wheel. I looked up as the Puma moved slightly, the Spartan had the hood opened and was attaching something to the engine. At her wave, I tried again, this time being answered by the roar of the engine. I looked up to thank the Spartan, but she was back in the pelican, nearest the pilot. I turned off the engine and waited for my squad. Cal sat by the gun, having folded the bed back into place; in a short while, Chuck returned with his right hand bandaged; locking his rifle into its place.

"Lock in, Marines." The Pilot called from the cockpit. "We're heading back to base." I saw the medical pelican rise and start heading to base ours rose as the sky became dark, the light from the pelican shining in the nightfall.

"What punishment will I get?" I heard Chuck ask. "For striking a Spartan?"

"You broke your hand, Private," I replied. "That seems punishment enough." He looked at his bloody bandages. "Besides," I began again. "I think you impressed her."

"Maybe…" he said, still doubting. There was a sudden crack in the sky and a blinding light; we all turned to see the clouds move as an enormous ship descended from space. It was unreal, something I had never seen before, but there were stories about them, the Covenant force. I tried to ready the others, but my voice was drowned by crackling as our pelican was struck by blue plasma.

I saw both Chuck and Cal begin to fall as the pelican lost altitude; Cal held onto the barrel of the gun and immediately began to pull herself up. Chuck had unlocked the rifle instead of trying to stay on. I reached out as he fell and caught the end of the sniper, holding him up. There was sizzling as the Covenant plasma melted the metal of the back of the Puma. I watched in hopelessness as Cal fell from the sky, her turret falling with her. I looked back to Chuck; he looked out to where she fell.

"She survived!" he yelled up to me from his position. "I can't hold on!" He said; he was holding on with his broken right hand.

"Just a little longer." I said back.

"Drop me!" He yelled. "I'll survive, but I need to fall with my rifle. Let go!" I looked into his eyes and saw confidence in his eyes. I closed my eyes and opened my hand.


	3. Chapter 3: Gunner

Disclaimer, I do not own anything that may be copy written, so I would appreciate to not be sued for infringement.

3. Gunner

I was a Marine; no, I am a Marine. I could not die here. I am Private Rebecca Quill, High Caliber of the 16th division; I will not die here. I stood from where I lay and looked around; the pelican was still airborne, but it was losing altitude; a good thing, too, considering that I had survived the fall from it.

"Lieutenant, do you read," I called from my radio headset. "I survived the fall, send a beacon out and I will follow, over and out." I looked to the floor and picked up a fallen assault rifle and checked if the heavy machine gun was still functional. It still worked, but I had limited ammunition. I took the bag that slung over my shoulders off and tied the gun to it, hoping that the straps would not rip.

I lifted the heavy metal and started running towards where the pelican was falling; there was a city only abo

ut a mile out. The sky was dark and filled with ships; it had to be the Covenant. I had only heard of them through the stories that dying marines told. When I reached the edge of the city the pelican had gone in; I looked back to the sky. Smaller ships rained down from the sky; drop ships and troop carriers, I assumed.

"This is Private Quill broad casting on an open channel; all troops in the area stay on alert, drop ships are descending in the area." I called out to any and all survivors. "My beacon is 32.24; regroup in the northern sector of residential city Theta. Over and out." I checked my assault rifle and ran into the city, listening beyond my own loud steps for a sign of an enemy. I stopped at the edge of one building and looked around; there were these creatures at about five feet, they were muttering and squeaking through breather masks by the look of it.

They were setting some device that was almost their height, but with more than a meter across the base of it. One of them muttered something louder and there was a barking response as a shimmer of light exposed a larger alien. This one seemed more—majestic, it was about eight feet in height; its armored plating was a deep blue and shimmered with hardly any light. It stood with great posture, despite the shape of its skeletal structure. I sat behind a wall, trying to determine if I should do. My instincts told me to go in guns blazing, but these enemies were different, I was unsure on the weapons they used.

"Shit." I muttered to myself, there was a barking growl from the larger alien and worried mumbles from the smaller ones. _Damn_. I thought, not wanting to make another sound. I looked to see if they could sneak around the building. I creped to the closest door to where I was and slowly opened it, looking inside to check its vacancy; it was empty. I slipped in, closing the door behind me and barricading it with the large gun I was still carrying. I saw there was stairs to the next floor; I walked up them in order to check if there were more of the beasties hiding up on the second floor. I was right to check; there was a strange bird looking creature at the window.

It held a long, purple, Y-shaped device. It turned and saw me, leveling the weapon at me. I dived to the side and narrowly missed a burning laser that let out a small crackle as it fired. I ran at the creature, assuming the weapon was a long range laser. It tried to shoot again, but I was too close. I knocked the weapon from its hands and I threw a punch at its face. The gun fired and shot out steam as my fist met the creature's head with a sharp snap. It fell to the floor dead; the bone structure of these creatures was weak and fragile.

I grabbed the gun from the floor and examined it. There was a zooming scope that verified its sniping capability. I strapped it to my back as an emergency weapon. I ran back down the stairs, hearing the aliens trying to open the door. I went down and pulled the gun from the front of the door and readied myself to face the new threat. There was banging and the sounds of them trying to break the door down; I could have laughed when I realized that they had no idea how to use a door knob. I faced the large gun away from the door and charged, using the heavy end of the weapon to break through the door, I took in the formation of troops in the outside of the building.

There were three of the smaller creatures and one tall one ducked down and ran to a stationary turret, almost like a common UNSC machine gun turret, but brightly colored, with light shields. I went after the first of the small creatures, punching it in the jaw, shattering the breath mask with a hissing sound. It wailed a bit, but was shot by a rain of plasma bolts coming from the turret. I jumped and ducked from the shots, the two remaining others were torn apart by the plasma.

Ducked behind a car, that now started to melt and warp under the constant plasma fire. I unhitched the assault rifle from its place on my back, sliding from behind the car, unloading a clip in the direction of the large alien. The turret turned in my direction, but moved to a limited radius, I ran just out of reach of the plasma, catching the alien's helmet as I passed the turret; with a quick pull, I turned its head sharp enough to break the neck.

"vzzt… calling any available troops… tzzv…" My headset buzzed in my ear. "vzzt…esidental city Theta…vzzt…subway tunnels…northern entran…vzt…holding down….heavy fire…vzzzt…est assistance…zvvvvt…." I picked up my heavy turret and strapped on my back, I started running north, hoping that I'd be able to make it in time to actually do something.

"Shit!" I leaped behind a wall, hiding from the Covenant ship that flew overhead. I pulled the long range rifle from over my shoulder. I looked through the scope to observe the hovering ship. It lowered behind one of the buildings across my position. "Well," I muttered to myself. "At least I know where I need to be."

When I came into view of the opened ship, I could see various aliens landing around the subway entrance, the marines guarding the area, only taking out few from the hoard. I strapped the long range laser back onto my back and heaved the large gun into a firing position and began to walk as fast as possible towards the battle.

It had crossed my mind as I walked towards certain death, that this would be a great time for real strategy, and that I was a fool for going in without a plan, but I'll leave all planning to Sparks or Chuck, my style was always more improv than rehearsal, and going in without a battle plan always makes for a more interesting fight. I just hope it wouldn't get me killed.

"Warg, wargh." I heard the strange alien chatter just before the world was drowned out by the sound of my favorite machine. This has been such an extraordinary day.


	4. Chapter 4: Sniper

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any part of its franchise (as far as I know) so any of the copy written material to do with it.

4. Sniper

I bit on the sniper round I kept between my teeth, not wanting to make a sound. I'd long been out of ammunition for the rifle that was strapped across my back, except for the single bullet I saved, but for what? I had a nagging feeling that I'd need it. I was taking cover under the window sill, looking out every few seconds to make sure we weren't under attack.

I sighed as I looked back into the room I was in, the third floor of a civilian building was not the safest of areas, but it would have to do. There were seven of us, the only one with military training being me. The other six consisted of three men, a child, and two women. I held my silenced pistol in my left hand, knowing that any use of my broken right hand was out of the question. I bit down again as the pistol wound in my shoulder bled a bit.

I was about to lose consciousness when I heard a broad cast buzz through the radio, I couldn't make out the complete message, but through the static, I could make out that there were marine forces holding out in the northern subways. Hopefully, it would not be like the one I found here, blocked by a crashed train, no doubt derailed by covenant strike teams blocking escape routes.

I stood and informed the others of the message, I'd found them hiding in that destroyed underground station, so they seemed to trust me enough to follow the way to the northern station. Each of them carried a small plasma weapon used by the "grunts," as the UNSC calls them. Even the child learned how to use it quickly and without incident.

"There are some more soldiers held up in the northern subway tunnels, I think there may be a fortified haven, but there may be danger." I spoke, taking the bullet from my mouth and turning to the others. "If you're willing to come with me, I'll be taking a sewer system through the manhole just outside in order to get there without the Covenant forces detecting us." One of the men stood and held his pistol tightly.

"Who's to say that the creatures haven't sent patrol units into the sewers?" He said to me; then turning to his fellow survivors. "You all saw what they did to the subway, why would we risk death over a small chance of other wounded soldiers like this one?" He gestured towards me. "I say we stay here; were at least we have a chance at defending ourselves." I chuckled at how I figured I could convince them to come with me.

"The best defense is a good offense, right?" I spoke Sparks' words. "Besides, I'm a marine, 'born to raise hell,' they say." I finished my argument with something I knew was common knowledge in cities near the central base, my division. "My name is Private Larry Carter of the 16th division, and I won't let any of you die; not here nor out there."

I saw a bit of confidence and hope in their eyes as I kept my stomach in check, my nerves in a frenzy; but they were mostly agreeable after that, waiting for my signal as I peered out the door closest to the sewer entrance, making sure that it was clear for movement, I waved them forward with my right hand, the movement causing me to bite down on the sniper round. They moved forward to the exit, not actually leaving the building.

I moved outside, keeping my pistol ready as I ran to the manhole cover, placing the pistol into its holster before gripping the metal the best I could, barely being able to move it off of the opening. The smell was awful, but I kept the contents of my stomach on the inside; for the moment, at least. I pulled the pistol out again, motioning the others towards my location, focusing on all of my military training to ignore the pit in my stomach.

My wound bled through the small amount of biofoam when I landed on the sewer walkway, causing me to groan a bit. I walked forward as the rest of the survivors followed, the last man closing the manhole as he entered. The disgust of the others was obvious as soon as we started moving through the tunnels, I kept my mind focused on where we'd be on the surface, not wanting to get lost in a place this foul.

"Are we there yet?" After a long time of walking, the child's rather cliché question broke my concentration for a second. I looked up and smiled, turning to the young boy.

"As a matter of fact, we are." His eyes lit up a bit as I started to move up the closest ladder, pushing the cover up slightly, looking for the all clear. What I saw was a massacre; the marines held up in the subway were under fire a mile from my location. My first instinct was to help, but the woman's voice asking me what it was held me back; the protection of civilians was my first priority. Any marine would agree with me, even if it resulted in their death.

I was faced with a choice, one that was life or death, but no matter which I chose, there would only be death, I just got to choose who dies. Oh, joy; my first solo mission and I already felt like I wanted to die. I'm not cut out to be a marine, even if I am a killer.

I was about to go down and explain the situation to the others when I heard something familiar: Cal's battle cry in sync with the thundering of the Puma's turret. I smiled weakly and gave a small chuckle. I dropped down from the top of the exit with renewed vigor. The survivors looked at me expectantly.

"The subway is under heavy fire," I started; their faces were grim to the news. "There are exits in the tunnels if you continue north." I checked my pistol and started to place the bullet back between my teeth. I stopped at a voice.

"Why are you going back up there?" I looked down at the boy, wondering what to say that would help him understand.

"Private Rebecca Quill is up there," I started, kneeling down to his height. "She doesn't think when she fights; it is both a strength and a weakness. Right now, she's up there raining hell down onto the aliens, but it's only a matter of time before she takes a bullet." He nodded in understanding as I stood back up to my full height. "It's up to me that none of the enemy troops get to take that shot."

"Now go with the others," I said, looking him in the eye. "Even if they are older and better in battle, you can always be there to make sure they don't get hurt." He had a light in his eyes, the confidence and feeling of worth; and, for the first time in my life, I knew that the look was reflected in mine.

I exited the sewer quickly, seeing the aliens jumping from the drop ship still, all of them terrified by Cal, who was firing into the crowd gathered by the subway and the mob forming under the drop ship. I surveyed the battlefield; the smaller Grunts were being killed relatively quickly, while the Elites kept safe behind cover, or under their shields.

I looked to a Jackal, the strange bird-like hostels, which kept to the back and held a long plasma beam. This was my second encounter with a Jackal, the first I had fought carried a highly deflective shield, I sighed at the memory of a ricocheted pistol shot piercing my shoulder. I ran as silently as I could to it, without being detected, I shot it in the head with the silenced pistol, the kickback forcing me to bite down in the sniper round. I picked up the weapon and looked through the strange scope on the rifle.

The road around the tunnel entrance was littered with about twenty vehicles, the largest truck, being in the center, on top of which, was Cal. I looked behind her, finding an Elite trying to sneak up to her, I pulled what I assumed was the trigger, creating a hole where its eye once was.

With the beam being very visible, Cal looked behind her at the dying howl of the alien, and then quickly turning to where the shot came from, I held up a small flashlight from my position, flashing it once when she looked, not giving away my position, despite cutting through the night's darkness, but announcing my presence to but one person.

The cries of the elites could be heard as the cars started to catch fire and explode. I had killed five of those trying to catch Cal off guard when the gun I was holding refused to fire another round. I then assumed it was empty and started to move behind cars, weaving to elites that hid near me.

The first I approached was trying to catch a glance on what manner of being was destroying their forces, when it turned its head back; it found a pistol muzzle to its head. I could see the creature's eyes widen with fear as I pulled the trigger. Without thinking I kept on going, thinking about how close to our race they were, about their ideals and motivations.

After a dozen more Elites dispatched, I reached Cal's location, she'd destroyed just about everything, the surviving marines just watched in awe at the sight of what they saw as only a third of the 16th division's might. Cal was only aware of my presence because I had alerted her to where I was; not wanting to take a few rounds in the chest. I felt my heart jump when Cal's gun sent off a series of clicks.

I saw the Elites taking advantage of this fact, most leaped up and charged forward, I kept to the shadows and out of sight. The first of those who got near were wounded and their shields were less active than the second wave, who were able to get close to Cal. I tried to keep them from getting there, two went down before a third jumped at me; I knocked it away, shooting twice into its head.

I looked back to Cal quickly, knowing that she wouldn't be able to react fast enough to pull another weapon out. I turned as an Elite fell from the top of the truck, its neck broken I glanced up at her as she swung at another enemy, striking its neck with the barrels of the turret. I shot with every opportunity, killing the ones further away from Cal, only once in a while shooting those who opposed her strongly.

I started reloading when three Elites with intricate armor started charging forward. One knocked me aside, forcing the pistol to fly from my hand. It picked me up by the throat as a blade that seemed to be made of light activated from its wrist.

I looked to Cal, and the small hope of rescue diminished as the leader, holding a blade longer than the one I was threatened with, sliced twice at Cal's weapon, causing the three barrels to clash to the floor. She fell to the ground as he loomed over her. I kicked my captor's chest as hard as I could; breaking his grip on me.

I pulled the sniper from my back and swung the heavy end into the Elite's head, hearing a loud crack as the skull shattered on impact. I fell to my knees, my wound finally opening completely; I tried to stand back up, feeling light headed from blood loss. I took the last bullet from my mouth and loaded it into the rifle, trying to steady myself to shoot the leader that was about to kill Caliber. Once I raised the barrel the third Elite pulled the gun from my hands and kicked me to the ground, causing me to black out.


	5. Chapter 5: Wounded Sniper

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any part of its franchise (as far as I know) so any of the copy written material to do with it.

5. Wounded Sniper

I woke up with a splitting headache; I pulled myself from the haze of pain and blood loss I was suffering from. I found myself to be moving, which, by looking around I found I was being carried by someone; Rebecca. Memories of the battle rushed back to me as I tried to pull myself from her fireman's carry. She realized that I was awake and set me down.

"What happened?" I spoke aloud, trying to keep my footing; I noted that we were in the subway tunnels, most likely heading north.

"They happened." She answered bluntly, looking to the side; I followed her gaze to see the survivors I had sent to the northern sewers. I looked questioningly at them. "They said you led them through the sewers."

"I thought I told you guys to escape the city." I said to the six civilians. "You could've been killed, you aren't trained for combat." One of the men spoke up.

"Even though you marines are more experienced in combat," He started. "We can still come on scene and make sure you aren't killed." I chuckled at their misinterpretation of my words, causing me to groan in pain, my bullet wound now fully open; my hand was most likely broken further, and the several cuts and bruises from the fight. I pulled the rifle from my back and took the single bullet out, placing it between my teeth, something Cal had known me to do on strictly reconnaissance missions and she understood immediately.

I put the rifle across my back and reached to arm myself with the pistol, finding that it hadn't been recovered from the battle field. Rebecca saw that I was uncomforted by not being armed and pulled something from her back; a covenant beam rifle. I took it without question, noting that there was a small meter on the side near the scope; I assumed it to be a way of monitoring the amount of energy left within whatever battery it used.

I noticed something else, looking up to Cal, who wasn't holding a weapon because before now, her main objective was carrying me out of the danger of the city. She had bluish purple stains covering most of her clothing; she seemed to have lost her helmet in battle.

There was an assault rifle strapped to her back along with the ammo belt with only three extra clips, the empty straps kept in place the three sharp, hollow barrels of the lost turret; each one was covered with the dry, bluish purple stains. I then remembered the color that sprouted from the Elite's head when the weighted end of my rifle struck.

"What exactly happened when I was out?" I asked, hoping the answer would be vague. The answer, I discovered was anything but. We started running again, the bullet still in my mouth.

"Well, I thought I saw you pass out after you were kicked by the- 'elite'" She said the word as though she was getting used to the terminology that most of the marines had little or no experience in using. "I'm not sure if you saw the one slice the heavy machine gun." I nodded to indicate that I had, indeed witnessed the alien weapon in action.

"After a bit of an adrenaline rush hit me, I pulled up the broken turret, thrusting the seared, pointed ends of the barrels into my assailant; the fountain of dark blue fluid poured out of the ammunition feeder." She described it in a way that made me think that she found a sort of sadistic pleasure from killing in such a gruesome way.

"With the blood draining, the creature died in a few heartbeats." I wondered if that was a pun. "Once that one fell, I readied myself to save you, but it was around that time that the rain of green plasma started to hit your elite."

"So the other survivors ended up coming back after all," I said, looking towards them, my speech a bit muffled by the bullet. "In any case, I thank you all for helping use out of that situation. But what happened to the other marines?" I asked Cal.

"They evacuated the civilians into the subway tunnels," she said, I wondered if she was irked that they would just leave two marines to hold out against a few waves of Covenant forces. No, she was thrilled at the sense of danger, anyone else fighting there would just get in her way. "We decided to take the less populated route, I mean, who'd want to deal with the smell?"

"Well, I for one hope that we get to an evac soon, I don't want to alarm you, but I feel a little light headed." I lost my footing for a second, falling to one knee; Cal stopped, checking if I was all right. I nodded at her concerns. "I'm fine, just a bit dizzy, that's all." She was not convinced.

"We need to get you to a medic right now; we're almost there, just stay conscious until—What the hell?" There were thundering footsteps above us. I focused on sounds because the room was spinning too much to focus on anything visually. Between the thumping footsteps, I could hear the very distant whirring of a Warthog engine.

What are we going to have to face now?


	6. Chapter 6: Spectator

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any other copywritten material that may be included within these pages, so… yeah, on with the chapter.

6. The Spectator

Hunters. Damn. Four hunters in one place. Damn. I've only encountered hunters once, and that was four months ago; half my squad was sent to the infirmary and I still have bruises from it. And that was only two hunters against a squad of six Spartans. Damn; this is bad.

I pictured Sparks' smirk from earlier, a young, naïve smirk; not ready to face the mighty foes before them. The 'driver,' as he was dubbed in the profiles, had already proven to me his worth in his strength and reflex by effectively handling the 'Puma,' the warthog that would throw me off if I wasn't gripping the metal frame.

That smirk; from bringing a Spartan to his level; it's irritating. I should be in recovery; the bruised ribs ached in my abdomens as he turned into the road adjacent to the four large blips on the Puma's long range radar.

Eight smaller blips appeared once before disappearing; that smirks, a glitter of optimism in his eyes as he drifted in a hundred eighty degree right turn, I lost my grip and started to be thrown outwards, I was barely able to push myself over Sparks as I flew out of the side seat of the warthog, trying to ensure I land on my feet. I checked that my assault rifle was fully loaded, never really trusting the ammunition display.

The clip clicked into place, as my feet slammed against the ground. I saw two marines dodging around the hunters; the extra blips on the radar. I recognized Cal and Chuck as the marines; I saw Sparks drive toward the closer hunter as Chuck was knocked into the air by the hunter on the opposite side of the battle.

I stopped moving; staring in awe, at the supreme team work, the focus, as well as the planning. Cal was shooting at one hunter while practically arm wrestling the second; as far as fighting went, she was a distraction.

My eyes shot towards Chuck, he was loading the rifle in midair; he aimed down the scope for the shot. He waited for the apex of his flight to fire, the bullet striking through the right eye of the hunter that knocked him away. It fell without much fuss after that; causing the hunter that had been formerly trying to crush Cal turned at the thud of the other hunter falling just as Cal's clip ran out.

She gripped the top distracted hunter's shield, pulling herself onto its shoulders as Sparks made contact with the closest hunters shield, using the tilt of it as a ramp, going over the hunter, just high enough to clear the hunters, but low enough to let Chuck turn in midair, making a rough landing into the moving vehicle.

The warthog landed roughly on the asphalt across the hunters, turning left into the street around the corner as the second hunter fell, Cal standing over it; I saw three metal pipes extruding from the large creature's neck, orange blood oozed out, draining the beast of its life. She emptied a pistol clip into the hunter's head through the base of the neck.

Heat from a green plasma blast soaring by my head brought me back to focus as the hunter Sparks had used as a ramp turned its attention towards me. I dodged the next blast, the heat from the explosion flaring upon my shields. I ran toward the hunter as the other hunter ran towards Cal.

I jumped as the hunter swung its massive shield at me, pushing on its head as I passed over it, placing a few shots into its back, making no difference to its movements. I landed behind it and had to dive to the side as it brought the shield over its head and slammed it down onto the spot I had previously occupied, shattering the asphalt under its mighty strength.

I shot a glance at Cal; she had slid underneath her assailant's legs, avoiding injury. I wondered for the split second that I could spare if she was following my actions, or if we both started using the same avoidance tactics by pure coincidence. The second after that was filled with more dodging and observing; trying to find gaps in the armor. I jumped to the side; a bit too far from the hunter that it started to aim with the plasma cannon arm.

My feet hit the floor and I braced for the shot to be fired, only to open them as a familiar sniper gunshot rang through the air. The hunter roared in pain, arching its back and throwing the trajectory of the blast over my head and into the building behind me. I followed the smoke trail to the end of the street, but saw nothing.

Ignoring the shot that I assumed came from the 'sniper,' I charged at the confused hunter, dropping my rifle and unsheathing my titanium alloy knife, ready to strike at its neck. Another shot rang out as I leaped into the air, this time it origination from the opposite side of the street, and I caught a small glimpse of a moving warthog pass by.

I allowed myself a little smirk as my blade punctured the softer tissue of the hunter's neck, giving me the time to draw my pistol and shoot the large creature in down the spine through the gaps in its armor. I saw that Cal was still struggling with what looked like an attempt at a head lock. I soon saw that she continued doing what she had been doing since the beginning of the fight: distracting.

The distinct whirring of the puma's engines could be heard approaching from the side of the street opposite of me, I could see over the dead hunters that Cal had moved the hunter into the far intersection, holding it in place until Sparks' plan went into its final stages.

I watched as four sniper rounds shot through various gaps in the last hunter's armor; the hunter not dying until the puma came into my field of vision, just before slamming itself into the hunter. Cal leaped off of the hunter's back just in time to land in the back of the warthog.

I walked back to pick up my fallen assault rifle, quickly loading it with a full clip and strapping it onto my back. I sighed with a tinge of pain, knowing that the three formerly bruised ribs were now broken, and I would have to recover in the infirmary. I stood tall in spite of it, turning as the puma slowed down towards me.

"We have to get Chuck to an infirmary." Sparks said firmly, I nodded, seeing that his men's safety was the most important thing. Cal got off of the puma and hurried towards the manhole cover that was nearest the fallen hunters, calling up about six people, all armed with plasma pistols. I watched as the small squad of marines helped them onto the back of the puma, which was able to fold out into a flatbed easily, with just enough room for the civilians, Cal, and Chuck to fit comfortably, leaving the passenger seat for me. I silently got back into the vehicle and we were off again.

I thought about the fight and the determination of these marines; marines that had not only the potential to become Spartans, but already had the skill that rivaled that of some Spartans on their best days.


	7. Chapter 7:Dismounted Driver

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any part of its franchise (as far as I know) so any of the copy written material to do with it.

7. Dismounted Driver

It was only half an hour before we arrived at a medical pelican that had taken an emergency landing to avoid detection. I had yelled so much more than I'd have liked, but Chuck had bleed out too much for me to not act rashly. I looked over from where I sat, next to the small bed in the makeshift medical tent underneath the Pelican's wing; an assault rifle in my arms, ready to defend the camp if the Covenant located us.

I looked across the tent to see the Spartan's helmet looking back at me, glistening in the dim light of the room, I wondered if the person behind its visor. The Spartan had yet to speak to me since our initial meeting, but it listened; always alert, watching, waiting. I almost felt intimidated by it. Such a thing couldn't be human.

"You should get some rest." I almost jumped at the voice. "Every trooper needs to be at their fullest capacity, especially the driver." I adjusted my grip on the weapon in hand.

"I'd prefer to be alert if anything happens." I said back. "Besides, I can go days without sleep. It's only been nineteen hours since I've been out on assignment. And we're still technically in hostile territory; with a third of my squad injured." I looked back to the tubes that were putting blood back into Chuck's system.

"Nonetheless, you won't be fully alert if you aren't well rested." The Spartan was insistent, for an observer looking for potential in Marines.

"If it is a question of observation skills, I can list the amount of shots my squad fired in the last battle, as well as in the Battle of Fort Lein; which was when we stormed a military base down in the Thaylin galaxy. Cal killed sixty-eight men that day; Chuck killed one hundred fifty-two." I always kept a mental record for each battle.

"And your count?" She asked; I could have laughed at the irony of the question. I almost ignored it, but I knew that she'd be persistent if I did.

"Fifty." I replied, leaning back more and closing my eyes, ready for the Spartan's next response.

An explosion knocked me off of my seat; I quickly looked around the room, it was darker outside and Chuck wasn't in the tent. Damn, I must've dozed off. I grabbed the assault rifle from where it had fallen. It must've been about two in the morning; I wondered where that damn Spartan was.

I exited the tent and found my answer, there was a Covenant drop ship hovering just outside of the camp. I spotted the Spartan behind the Puma; which was on its side, charred and burning, the fuel tank had already detonated; probably the explosion that woke me. I ran to the Spartan and took cover behind the disabled vehicle.

"Where's my squad?" I yelled to the Spartan, barely making a sound over the noise of the sizzling plasma cutting through the air overhead. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Private Quill is defending Carter; they're both inside the Pelican with the medical officers and crew, ready to take off as soon as the enemy aircraft as destroyed." She yelled back, firing into the enemy forces. "So get your ass in the pelican and get out of here!"

"Speaking freely, Major," I yelled, going up to fire out into the oncoming forces. Three, five. "You can take that order and stick it where the sun don't shine." She seemed baffled that I was speaking disrespectfully. "I don't care what you say, or what danger I'm in, I will not leave my men in danger! And I don't care what you say; you cannot fight this battle alone!"

I went up again to shoot. Eight, nine. I looked to the source of the forces, the drop ship. A small craft fell from the bottom; it hovered barely above the floor. Twelve, thirteen. It was piloted by a 'Grunt.' The wings across its hull lit up in the back as it sped towards our location. I unloaded my current clip towards the moving vehicle, but it began returning fire, forcing me to take cover again.

"I'll be right back!" I yelled, dropping my rifle and running out of cover as I heard the humming of the purple vehicle approaching; remembering the speed it moves at and my own running speed, as well as the direction it sped toward the broken warthog. I moved towards it, and as our paths crossed, I caught the edge of the seat.

I yelled out in pain as my shoulder is dislocated, concentrating on keeping a firm hold; fortunately, my forward momentum swung me around as the knife I'd drawn in midair caught the neck of the surprised creature. Fourteen. I used the leverage to pull myself onto the seat of the strange vehicle, which was still moving at full speed.

I took a brief moment to analyze how the creature held the vehicles controls before throwing it off and duplicating the hand and foot positioning; trying my best to compensate for the dislocated shoulder. I found the actual controls of the craft to be relatively simple, most likely for the benefit of the lesser creatures.

The fire fight seemed to erupt again as I finished focusing on the vehicle; turning, I revved the engine and was sent flying forward; the boosters quickly emitting heat from the power usage. It took me a short time and a few ran down aliens to figure out the weapon controls, which were useful to survey the area while shooting into the crowd. Twenty-three, twenty-four.

An explosion of green plasma threw me off balance for a second. At first I thought it might be a Hunter, but a quick survey of the battlefield told me otherwise. A rain of blue plasma narrowly missing my vehicle brought my eyes up to a small aircraft, only a bit smaller than a Falcon; and far more agile.

I surveyed the battlefield once more, this time thinking vertically as well as horizontally. Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three. Two possible choices: one, use one of the broken vehicles that were blown up to prevent escape as a ramp, to either crash the land vehicle onto the flying hostile, or jump from my vehicle and hijack the flying one—no… there was no way I could pull something like that off with a dislocated shoulder, and I'm not even sure I'd be able to use the controls of the other vehicle.

I guess I'd do the second option, shoot it until it falls out of the sky. The blue plasma sprouted from the front of the purple vehicle I sat in, I turned the controls to strafe as I shot at the flying vehicle, which was turning around for another strike. The plasma I shot, for the most part, slid across its hull, as though to not do damage. Another green blast of plasma caused part of my vehicle's armor plating to shatter.

After weighing my options, I sighed and turned around, maneuvering the battle to the right position; finding an opening to utilize an incline was difficult, but well rewarded, as I leaped from the ground vehicle, moments before impact. The plasma fueled explosion pushed me as I flew through the air; I closed my eyes and braced for impact of the ground that was reaching up to hit me.

Pain coursed through my body, but not the amount it should have been; I opened my eyes as the pain concentrated into my ribs, finding myself in the arms of the Spartan. I groaned as she dropped me roughly on the floor, shooting into the advancing forces. I took out my sidearm and fired as she grabbed me by the collar and dragged me painfully into cover.

"You're going to get yourself killed like that, Sparks!" She shouted over the advancing troops. I ignored her, one arm limp at my side as I shot another elite down. Forty-two. I winced and exhaled as I looked up to the sky, seeing a falling star. No. I know better.

"Hell jumper." I breathed out as the metallic pod that almost all marines recognized as the ODSTs way to the battlefield penetrated the drop ship's dark blue hull, blowing it up, along with half the forces that previously faced us. I continued firing at the masses. Forty-eight, forty-nine. I was nearing the end of my usefulness.

The door of the drop pod exploded outwards as the soldier emerged, the black armor lined with red; on the back, there was a spray painted target. I sighed; what else can one expect from an ODST than a suicidal soldier? I looked to the Spartan, who also sighed. Fifty.

"Sergeant Trevv…" She muttered. Like a flood, memories of the files poured into my mind. Most of the files covered in black ink, but the memories were there. Supposedly, this guy lost his entire squad in one drop. After a few months of radio silence, the Fire-two distress beacon was sent out. When the UNSC got there, all of the rebel forces were dead, and they found Trevv standing in the wake of all the carnage. I could feel myself shake in Fire-two's presence.

"Lieutenant!" The Spartan's voice brought me out of it. "Go check on the others, tell them it should be safe and fleeing is a no-go." I nodded and limped back to the end of the Pelican. The doors opened for me; Cal and the civilians she brought with her were ready to face a threat if there were any.

"The Major says not to take off," I informed the pilot and crew. "Spartan's convinced its safe now." I could hear the gunshots and screams of dying aliens. The others seemed a bit doubtful. "ODST pack a hell of a punch." I said, causing them to believe it was safer than before.

**\\[=_=]/ **

After ten minutes of slaughter, the noise stopped; I heard two sets of footsteps draw nearer. I readied my weapon without making the others nervous. The Spartan came around the opening first followed by the ODST trooper, who still had the helm on. He carried a shotgun across his back, holding a rocket launcher in his offhand. The armor Trevv wore was bulky; he had a jump jet propulsion pack on his back and a parachute over his stomach. I could see that he clearly didn't want to leave anything in the drop pod for the covenant to find.

The Spartan got in and told the pilot to ready for takeoff. Fire-two sat across from me as the Pelican doors closed up on the rising dawn. I couldn't tell if the infamous ODST was even acknowledging me as I stuck my hand out.

"Names Henry Sparks, I'd be dead if you hadn't shown up, so thanks." The cold trooper simply ignored my offer, so I awkwardly put my hand down. I sat back in my chair, a bit offended.

"You'll have to forgive Sergeant Trevv." A voice coming from Fire-two's helmet said. It was a female voice, but it sounded synthesized, like an A.I. construct. As if on cue, a feint pink light shimmered over his shoulder, creating the shape of a small woman, dressed in ODST armor, excluding the helm. "My name is Carol, the experimental thought-to-speech A.I." She gave a bow.

"A pleasure to meet you, Carol." I greeted back. She smiled and Trevv, I'd assume, rolled his eyes. "Tell me; why does the good Sergeant here need a thought to speech program?"

"I would like to inform you that I am still in the early stages of this program and cannot give a word by word translation from Fire-two's thought to direct speech, but I take the basics of the ideas Fire-two has and I try to give a basic outline of the thoughts involved." She explained her function well enough, I wonder if it is because her programming that "black ink" covering things as well.

"Anywho," she said a bit more cheerfully. "To answer your question: Sergeant Trevv's tongue was cut out after the rest of the "Raining Fire" squad was killed and Fire-two refused to leak information to the Rebels. Trevv has more recently acquired a flash cloned tongue replacement, but still cannot speak at the moment, coming back to your question of why I am needed."

"Thank you for giving such a complete answer, Carol." I said when she was done. "You have a lovely voice."

"Why thank you, Mr. Sparks." She said. "I am afraid Trevv kindly bids you to 'put a sock in it,' which from my databanks, means 'to remain silent.'" I nodded and laughed to myself, there might be a bit of entertainment to be had with Trevv and Carol, seeing as they are practically polar opposites.

I smiled to myself as I leaned back and tried to ignore the pain in my arm and ribs; waiting for the Pelican to arrive at the military fort.


	8. Chapter 8: Antagonized Gunner

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any part of its franchise (as far as I know) so any of the copy written material to do with it.

8. Antagonized Gunner

* * *

The lieutenant's chuckle caught my attention as I drifted off. I turned my head to catch a glance at him as he sat back in his seat on the Pelican now on course for the main fort. He sat with a smug look, I figured he was getting under the ODST's skin, but there was no way to know for sure. I looked to Chuck, who was lying on the medical platform with tubes in his arm and the clear cup over his mouth. I turned to Sparks again, there was the distinguished look of pain, and the bittersweet sorrow of survival lit them brightly, making me feel worthless, as though I did nothing to help save the lives of the marines, medics, and civilians that evacuated in our Pelican.

Sparks had nearly died in attempt to ensure an opportunity for the escape, he did the impossible, things I've only heard rumors of Spartans doing. Chuck was wounded saving the six civilians he had discovered in the subways, and almost bled out trying to keep me alive. Even the Spartan broke a few ribs against the hunter, although she tried to hide it, I could tell by the way she walked. I felt like I caused more problems than I solved, making the others obtain injuries that I should've had.

Then there was the ODST. He crashed down from orbit, aiming his drop pod like a weapon at the Covenant drop ship and he took out the entire force like it was yesterday's garbage. At best, my hastiness has provided a distraction in battle; at worst, it got Chuck hurt. But this guy, this Trevv; he had no "at worst," he simply got the job done.

I should be thanking him, or congratulating him, but the way he moves, the way he acts, he carries himself like a big headed, suicidal, adrenaline junkie that only gets a thrill in killing; with no regard for the ones he should be fighting for. The worst part of it: he gets glory for it, for actions he puts no heart into. My nails cut into my palm as I clenched my fist.

^^/[=_=]\\^^

I looked down at what I was doing when I had drifted off before. The rifle in my lap had Elite blood smeared on it, the lines moving around to form a flower. I dipped my thumb in the pool of blood collecting on my hand, then painting the flower bud a crimson hue.

The Pelican was welcomed by several medical personnel, no doubt being called out by the Pelican's pilot; I followed Chuck's gurney to the infirmary, the rest of the Pelican's occupants coming as well. I shot a glare at Trevv, who had no reason to come along.

I'll put up with him now—but if he does anything far out of line; I may not be so hospitable; Sparks still amused himself by conversing with Carol, they walked ahead of me, following the Spartan to the large room marked "infirmary." I flinched as one of the medics asked if I had been wounded, examining my hand; I shook my head and pulled my hand away.

The infirmary was a lot emptier than I would've expected no doubt because there was no way for survivors to contact an evac Pelican. I felt bitter sorrow for being helpless against the aerial forces that filled the sky; I felt like the weakest in the room. Chuck could down a Pelican with a single sniper round; Sparks could learn the controls of almost any vehicle just by examining the controls for a few seconds; Trevv… he could decimate the battlefield in a single rush. I needed the others, on my own; I would just wind up dead.

"Fire-two wonders what you are thinking." Carol's soft voice caught me off guard; I turned to see the ODST leaning against a support beam across from me. "Even though Fire-two is fairly certain that you feel guilty about letting your squad get injured while protecting you." I ignored the A.I.'s conclusion, wondering if Trevv was just trying to strike conversation. He turned his head towards Sparks and Chuck.

"Fire-two is observing how weak your two team members are and offers to injure you." Carol's kind voice made what Trevv was trying to say worse. "Fire-two says: 'That way, you can all be pathetic together.'" My fist moved so fast, that I hardly had time to get angry, yet the anger burned soon enough.

"'I suppose that your answer is "yes."'" Carol translated Trevv, as he lifted his covered head, which I figured was unharmed by my fist. He moved forward quickly, punching my ribs before I could fall into a defensive stance. I backed off a bit, pulling myself together and readying for his next strike. The next punch was blocked as I stepped forward, ramming my shoulder into his chest and knocking his back. I punched him in the stomach as hard as possible, not knowing when I'd have another shot past his defense.

The fight had caught the attention of all the wounded soldiers and medical officers. I glanced over to the lieutenant, whose eyes were closed as he shook his head in disappointment. The next fist caught me on the jaw line, knocking me off balance. I bumped into a flimsy bed, its occupant, a man whose right arm and leg were missing, fell to the floor.

As I turned, I saw his eyes shoot open as he made contact with the ground, his quick intake of breath was barely audible over the commotion around the room. A few medics rushed to him as I caught his arm in mid-punch, I struck at his elbow, breaking his left arm.

"I believe Fire-two is either trying to express the pain," Carol's voice chimed in. "Or Fire-two is expressing how much pain you will soon be in." I ducked his next swing, not expecting his foot to meet my chin halfway down.

The blow knocked my head back; I stumbled back, trying to regain my senses, but three more blows to the ribs from his right arm and I was sure to have a few broken ones. That fact was made clear as I coughed up liquid rose pedals. I ignored the pain as best I could and threw a solid punch to the jaw of the ODST's helmet. Only a small crack formed as my fist seemed to cave in on itself.

The security teams came in as we both steadied ourselves, I glanced over and saw that Chuck was sitting up from his bed; I wondered how long he had been watching. I ducked the persistent bastard's next blow and tried to come back with a kick, but he backed off as my foot caught the empty air in front of him.

"Why is she still fighting?" I heard Chuck ask Sparks.

"You should know better than to think Cal would back down to an ODST." Sparks said in response, I jabbed three more times with no avail, only another blow to the jaw.

"I know Cal well enough," Chick said. "But why is she still fighting?" He asked, pointing at Trevv. I gave an inward chuckle, Chuck must've heard Carol's voice and assumed it was the ODST's. My amusement was mirrored by Sparks as he explained the situation to Chuck. Of course, my amusement lasted for a short period of time as Trevv's fist made contact with my broken ribs, blurring my vision with pain.

As a final act of desperation I did the stupidest thing I could've: I head butted the ODST who still wore his helm. The blow bruised my forehead for sure, blurring my vision further, but before I met the ground, I saw Trevv hit the floor and felt a sense of victory before I passed out.


	9. Chapter 9: Rebuilt Medic

9) Rebuilt Medic

I awoke the moment my back touched the cold, hard floor of a UNSC medical wing, an environment I could recognize by the smell alone. I coughed violently, gagging on a tube in my throat; two doctors rushed to where I lay as I calmed myself, knowing that panic would only hinder any medical procedures. My eyes darted around the part of the room that I could see, listening to my surroundings. There was a lot of commotion that had to do with the one who had knocked me out of the bed. There were two marines fighting hand-to-hand in the center of the room, both clearly had enthusiasm and certain anger towards each other.

I winced as the marine broke the shock trooper's arm; the retaliation was quick and brutal, fracturing the marine's teeth and breaking at least four ribs. A nurse blocked my field of vision as the marine landed a forceful punch, one that I would assume would break her hand. My vision blurred as the sedation mask sprayed out, the numbness not taking effect, due to my immunity to most anesthetics. I cringed as they tightened new bandages around my reopened wounds; one medic ran up with a syringe, I assumed that he had just read my file and realized that I was unaffected by the administered sedatives.

I began to black out as the female Spartan began talking to me; her voice sounded muffled as I kept myself conscious; she was trying to get my consent on an "experimental procedure." Perhaps it was the head trauma, blood loss, or the sedatives; but I agreed to it, knowing that most procedures of this nature ended badly. I subconsciously fought the sedative until it pushed me further into the darkness I had been in just minutes before.

I awoke gasping, choking on the tube that kept me alive during my unconsciousness, pain burning down into my very bones. I felt myself convulse slightly with pain, my body confined by metal bonds, holding me to the cold metal table as machines cut into my skin; prodding needles burrowing into my skin in several places. I tried to focus on what they were doing, but the pain coursing through my mind was too great, causing me to black out again.

"Private Bell." A voice called me out of the eternal darkness, where the nightmares of machines, tearing me apart tormented me. "Private Vincent Bell, you've just survived a very risky procedure."

I opened my eyes to see the ceiling from the soft bed, most likely in the recovery ward. I looked to the left, searching for the voice that woke me up. It was a woman dressed in the standard clothing of a field medic. I thought it was odd that a doctor inside the hospital of a military base would be dressed for the field and I would have mentioned it, but I couldn't seem to move much of anything, including my lips and tongue. The woman saw that I was trying to speak and walked to the end of the bed.

"You're blood is still filled with sedatives, so you won't be able to move or speak much for a couple of days," She explained, taking off her body armor. "They called me in during the procedure from the field, I was monitoring when you woke up." She took an electronic clipboard from the table she stood next to, writing things down. "It must be a hassle, being immune to most sedatives on hand, but not surprising, considering how many injuries you've obtained in past conflicts."

"This is the first time that I was injured by my own army; and this will probably be my last." My voice sounded muffled and faint. The woman looked shocked.

"I'm not here to judge the UNSC, you, or the man who called that air strike. I'm just here to patch you up so this won't be your last chance to be injured in battle." She spoke with skill that I recognized from many other medical officers as one practiced to calm patients and raise their moral. I usually ignored doctors when they spoke to me like this, but the way this woman spoke… Despite myself, I actually believed that she could help me.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but your right appendages have been substituted with advanced robotics. The procedure you've undergone was designed over the course of three years, you are lucky to have survived it, it says here that you are the first human to undergo this treatment and survive." She paused for a second. "Son of a bitch. Why would they even try that?" She was clearly talking to herself, and I assumed she had just found out about something that the ones in charge of my 'operation' had kept from her. "The psychological trauma could have been far too great, perhaps the serum made it possible to keep him from going into shock."

I tried to speak, but found that my mouth and tongue had gone numb. I just watched her as she marked certain things down on the screen of the electronic board, making notes about the results of the procedure. As I lay down on the increasingly uncomfortable bed, wondering what exactly they had done to me that could make her act as she was. She was noting the heart rate when she saw that I was trying to move. She moved over to the other side of the bed.

"I'm going to remove the monitoring equipment and unlock your synthetics now," She said, putting the device she was taking notes on and reaching for the needle that was on my left arm. "You should take it slow at first, in order to get used to the feeling of the metal limbs. The sedatives in your blood should wear off soon, but for now, use the mechanics to balance, they should respond as if they were always attached."

I rolled and pushed myself off of the bed, stumbling as my left leg gave out, but I caught myself with a metal clink on the floor. The feeling of the floor beneath the metal foot was realistic, the pressure pushing up into my leg; I assumed there was a lot of research that went into making the synthetic leg connect to the nervous system. It felt everything but the cold, which was hard to ignore on my left foot, which was beginning to get feeling back.

"Take it easy, Vincent," the doctor said, helping me sit back on the bed. "This is something you can't push, it takes time to get used to any synthetic limb, besides," she paused for a moment. "There is something else you are going to have to get used to."

"What is that?" I asked, starting to get anxious. "What was it that kept me from going into shock?" She sighed, as if she could break it to me easier. She finally turned around, picking up the electronic clipboard and scrolling through the files; then she sighed again.

"Just this morning, I was out here as a field medic, helping whoever was wounded in the Covenant strike," she was overwhelmed at the death that surrounded her. "Now I find out that this UNSC facility is holding enough medical equipment to manage something a risky as this."

"You'll experience differences in your reflexes and strength, along with other anomalies regarding your body chemistry." She said, looking through the notes of past researchers that had tested this 'procedure.' "You will be placed under lockdown until we've determined that you will not be a threat to yourself or others."

"I appreciate the breakdown, but either way, I'd like to know what exactly they did to me."

"It's a program that has been funded in multiple areas for a few years, it's filled with rumors and uncertainty, but the research path taken on this particular version…"

"Doctor, please." I stopped her from avoiding the question.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard some of the rumors," she said, then put it very simply, "They've made you into a Spartan."


	10. Chapter 10: Discerned Driver

**10. Discerned Driver**

Chuck threw up in a bedpan as soon as the fight was over, as though every painful blow reached his eyes at once and he remembered that he should vomit at the sight of something so brutal. I patted his shoulder and told him to rest as I began to follow the medics that were rolling Caliber to the emergency rooms, all the while trying to determine the best course of treatment. As we entered the hall, I caught a glimpse of Trevv, the medics trying to remove his helmet in a way that wouldn't damage his possibly fractured neck; Carol giving them a diagnosis with a helpful tone.

My mind was racing from the fight, the adrenaline rush, even though I held myself from assisting Cal. I kept playing the fight, trying to figure out something that was bothering me, something about Trevv that I could not put my finger on. The way he moved; a certain muscle twitch when Cal had gotten a shot in the stomach, right before Trevv lost the sense that this was a friendly spar; at least, as friendly as an ODST can manage. Something about that bothered me, as though I'd seen something like it before.

We were in a hall, rushing towards a destination that I didn't really think about, my mind was racing, and I could barely focus on one thing at once, but there were a few things I remembered when we landed on site. While I was talking to Carol on the way in, the way some of the engineers whispered to each other.

The Spartan killed eighty-six aliens in that battle, I felt envy for her ability, even compared to the ODST, who so many without me witnessing, it will be stuck in my mind for weeks now; not knowing. Fifty is all I can do, only fifty. I looked into one of the rooms open to the hall, the machines all smoky and covered with blood. A blink shows them to me again, clean and white, with military efficiency.

Trevv's fighting style reminds me of someone I looked up to long ago, back when I was growing up on a far colony, living without fear of conquest or war. It wasn't until the UNSC and the rebels arrived with their conflict that I killed a man for the first time. I wasn't sure if he was one of the rebels that tried to bring down the UNSC, or if he was someone who took advantage of the chaos they brought. I was thirteen and he was trying to force himself on my mother. I remember the fear and sickness when I saw his eyes go dark, the blood draining from his throat.

I felt tears run down my face as the room lost its color. I remember that smiling face, a cocky smile every time I was knocked down. Sparring during training on our outer colony, yet the memory of when eludes me. It could have been training for the militia or boot camp for the marines. These memories. I haven't thought about these memories in years; the memories of Ashley, the girl who taught me to fight when I was growing up.

I was dizzy; nauseous by how the room was moving so much; finding it harder to think. Strange devices and electronics being transferred back and forth in the hanger. The men winking and nodding to each other, cooperating without words, as though it was all planned out in advance. I remember… they were bombs, the devices in the hanger; rebels trying to get another strike at the UNSC. I fell to my knees, barely noticing the doctors around me, rushing forward to help. So this is what dying feels like; I must've been wounded more than I thought. I turned to see the machine again. The machine that would make me a soldier greater than any marine; a Spartan, bred for combat.

Ashley, the first girl I ever had feelings for; killed several men to keep me safe. I got us out; me, her, and our families; by piloting a pelican at the age of fourteen. Or was I thirteen? Fourteen. It was my birthday when I first killed a man. It was my birthday when I last saw my teacher, my protector, my rival, my first crush. It was my fourteenth birthday when I last saw the girl I always thought I'd end up marrying back when I didn't think about war or bombs or a race of aliens that have guns that can burn through Kevlar.

Now it is my twenty-sixth birthday when I saw her again, my childhood friend, my sparring partner, my one true love. The face that would be in my last thoughts, the girl I wish I could have spent my life with, the name that would be the last words I would speak as a normal human being.

"Ashley Trevv."


End file.
